"Hurt is the The Teacher, Wisdom is the Lesson" . The key to healing whatever tests Life brings to us is that we can hurt only when we’re ready to hurt. That is, when we already have all of the emotional tools to heal our pain can we draw to us the experiences to demonstrate our mastery." ~ Gregg Braden ~

“Spellbound”, from the Album “Rendez Vous” by “Doug Cameron”. Loving his Violin sound…

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I don’t think this Dinner had anything to do with my thoughts of the time. The 340 miles round trip and another Traveler’s letter did. The photos are captioned…

Long ribbon of road ahead this morning, this is the day of a dinner I was hired for in Marathon. This is of a physical ribbon slowly switching itself to a mind set getting lost in thoughts. Long straightaways of black tar, it makes me think. I have to look at it as it could not have happened at a better time, as yesterday, before shopping time for ingredients, I had to squeeze in a visit to the Dr. It had become a must, painful lungs where screaming. Why waited? 2 shots, antibiotics for a week, inhaler. Always a dilemma when Health Insurance is missing as so is for many others combined with positive thinking, "things" will get better, as yet they did not. The wet and cold and foggy penetrating ride from Austin only worsened the matter. This was a bit of extra falling from the skies around this time of Christmas and a while back I would have looked at the situation with a different sense, disturbed for sure as here it comes and there it goes. Today however, I am filled with gratitude that indeed this falling from the sky opportunity was going to allow me to take care of my health. I stayed ahead and broke the strings as the cure was now affordable.

Health cannot be tentative, it is not a luxury, it is an ongoing personal trek. Such a good example was of this past summer having to sell my two cameras in exchange for a biopsy. It had to be done. Those cameras meant the world to me, not as their physical entity, but what they represented as an extension of our Journey. They were as alive going up and down the paths we had been with their ability to capture the sights and moments witnessed. They were one family as with "Old Faithful", they were not just machines and objects. They went away to one buyer in that brown box. There is really a story to them however as when they reached their destination one was broken. Of course I was responsible for it and it just happened that the buyer lived only a few minutes from a Canon repair center. I expressed that I would cover the costs of such repair. He took them to the Center and they end up repairing, not one but both at no charge, changing the mirrors and sensors. What Faith of Life was that? Same as above for these present days.

The strings were attached only for such a short time, I thought for ever but were not. A few days ago I received an e mail from another Traveler who is now roaming South America. He is on his own Spiritual Journey as Spirituality surfaces when we seek answers when hiking the Valleys a bit too long after a downfall Life serves us. His Journey is the result of a lost Love. Lost Love is so painful. It derives from our such deep rooted emotions we hardly have any control over when it suddenly vanishes with our inability to grasp it and only endure it’s consequences of a stage lacking when as such left alone. There is nothing so more important I feel in Life as the Love we have for others, Soul Mates, Friends, acquaintances, our buddies, all the entities surrounding us which are alive, which can bounce back and forth with such emotions so often overtaking us.

I always felt we are as the caretakers of this giant Noah’s Ark and once thrown off the boat the pain becomes insurmountable too often as we can then barely swim on it’s wake. We try not to sink as the horizons swallows the presence that was once part of us. We try to swim harder and harder as too often our own strength diminishes not from our wanting but only because the Human Kind can only take so much abuse. Our Hearts swells up, our eyes tear up, our throats choke as we search and search for a step above and not below as we have already gone down too deep, as the walls have become already so dark that we can barely even see and feel ourselves.

Topping for the melted Brie

The strings break, they are too often replaced with the chains that weigh us down. We think. We want to climb, some of us do, all of us can. A spark is striked, the Faith of Life shows us as such for the more fortunate ones. We struggle, we try to come to terms with ourselves, with the present path and Life itself. We read, we listen, we hear. Friends come forward, they speak. We listen more. Sometimes we understand, and sometimes we do not. Often the chains will break and yet the strings still keep us on a track we do not want to be on. Some of us write, expel the weight, we write to us, we write for ourselves and not for others as only the truth of the reality can be directed towards one’s own Soul.

No fingers lost…

My Friend thanks me for the pages I have written as he wishes he could also do as such. Which he can, he can only if he lets go of those strings as he is also fortunate for his now broken chains. My question was, "who do you write for?". What is the core of the direction you have taken? What is your purpose of this wonderful Journey on such Foreign lands amongst such wonderful Civilizations? To witness them or witness your own? The strings will always be there if always trying to enlighten others with entertainment and only totally cut off if replaced by ribbons flowing through the wind when and if the time comes for "my" and "self" starting to elevate themselves to also flow freely acquiring an understanding which is such a must throughout our nights and days emerging from a state of our lost Loves.

He knows "writing" as also "riding" is such a therapy. Not a coincidence they both sound alike. Every mile ridden, every twist of the road, every stop on a shoulder, each new face met becomes a parallel with a mind set to liberate ourselves. Every physical moment becomes the introduction for the mind to correlate in words our own savior and make the whole the incredible experience few of us can understand as this is not about the quantity of the miles ridden, the speed witnessing the double yellow lane rushing past us as a constant blur, it is not about the roar of the engine but about the thunder and the rumble of our thoughts triggered by such path.

The potholes, the cracks on the paved roads, the ruts and mud and rocky terrains and loose gravel on the unpaved roads, the wildlife jumping in front of us, the burros crossing, the dogs chasing us, the cars with their mad drivers ignoring the basic laws of the roads, the giant centipedes and their dozens of wheels cutting us off right and left, the locals curious of our looks and machines. So much more. We know too well the components which make our days what they are. And when all stops, quiet and calm, when the ignition is turned off and a pen and paper is in front of us, that is when the thoughts of the days mixed in with the physical entities of the same day finally in words allow us to cut off the strings we do not need or want no more attached as our freedom and our growth is indeed what we seek.

The strings have to be cut. Mine are, they have now been replaced by these flowing ribbons, this liquid path running deep, encompassing my Friends, everyone that has come across us at one time or another. Freedom has slowly made it’s way as emerging from a dark past Life into a present one more radiant than ever even if so the shadows of my own lost Love will never ever dissipate as they will always stay alive looked upon them, tried to be looked upon them with only skimming it’s good memories which at times finally puts on a smile even if they are mixed in with a flow of tears only Human as we all are.

It so much, all has come down to sharing, as such without withholding as none of our inner times are secrets for anyone as we are all so alike thinking only wrongly so I myself feel we are not. Sharing the words, the photos, food, videos, everything that will allow one to cut those string tying anyone down resulting in an immobility unhealthy for so many various reasons.

Even though the eyes hold the tears when memories of lost love comes in, the heart has a way of healing itself, if slowly at times, and opens up, seeking love once again – making the memories seem not so harsh. I would say you had to rest after preparing that fabulous looking meal…I could taste everything from your great photos! (One can’t hold down a master chef (: ) So sorry you were sick, however – a much needed rest is required, indeed! What did Mr. Spirit think of this entire situation? A new year is coming for the heart and mind – a new beginning, new adventures, some new friends, and perhaps a new love or two – one never knows. Looking forward to more pictures and journals in 2012! Everything warm and wonderful to you and Spirit!

I tried to make simple pasta and tomato sauce yesterday. A microwave, hot pot, and few ingredients. It wasn’t very good. I need to get back into cooking. Difficult here where the ingredients available aren’t the ones I’m used to. Who do I write for? A timely question. I have the ideas and now pictures taken to make a new template on my blog. I am ready for a change there. But, I have been torn by the 2 audiences I feel I have, the people I know in real life, which is who I used to write for, and the new to me audience of bloggers. I re-read some older posts in my blog, and they were much more interesting to me. Your post reminds me why. I need to write for me, and my friends as I used to. Others will like it or not. It’s all good.

The “one-pan” recipes are exactly for the situation you are in. They are templates for the purpose of using the available ingredients which you might not even know but I am sure exists around you, I have no doubt…
Writing! Yes… it is a decision only you can make… follow your Heart…
Happy New Year to you too and all my Friends here.
Ara and Spirit